


You Taste Like Whiskey When You Kiss My Lips

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Age disparity - 35/15, attraction to an underage male, kissing.<br/>Summary: "It had been stupid, Sirius realised, to expect that he would be able to control himself without supervision around the beautiful, blushing redhead sitting beneath him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Taste Like Whiskey When You Kiss My Lips

“I've got a question.”  
  
  
Sirius rolled his head to one side and looked at the speaker: the youngest Weasley boy, lanky and freckled. He appreciated the length of the boy's thighs and the flatness of his stomach. Sirius looked up to avoid being caught staring for too long.  
  
  
It was far too late for either of them to be awake, especially Ron, but he had showed no sign of tiredness, and nor had he shown any weakness for the alcohol which Sirius was fairly sure would cause Molly to kill him when she found it he was sharing it with her son. It was an old Muggle favourite of his, and he nursed his own glass with the tenderness of that of a lover.  
  
  
“Go on then.” Sirius smirked and sipped at his whisky. “What's your question?”  
“Have you ever been in love?”  
  
  
Sirius narrowed his eyes and stared at the boy, who did not move from his lounging position in the armchair.  
  
  
“Why do you ask?”  
“Because... you're _Sirius Black_. The way Harry talks, its as if you're some kind of love god or something.”  
“And you don't believe that I could be?” Sirius laughed and looked down at his drink.  
“No... I didn't say that, I just wanted to know if you've ever been in love, that's all... or if you're a...”  
“Man who shags someone and walks away happy?”  
“I didn't mean that!” Ron said hastily, his cheeks bursting into colour.  
  
  
Sirius laughed and waved off his dismissal.  
  
  
“You'd be right to assume it of me. I've been like that in the past... but prison kind of put a damper on my debauched ways. But yes, I have been in love.”  
“Who with?” Ron asked eagerly, his youth making him forget his manners.  
“Now, that would be telling, and I don't kiss and tell.”  
  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
  
“But I have been known to shag and brag about it.”  
  
  
Ron laughed.  
  
  
“But I don't think the person I'm in love with loves me back any more. Too much time has passed. Too much water under the bridge. Such is life.”  
“You still love her?” Ron asked in surprised, his eyebrows disappearing into his fringe.  
  
  
Sirius got to his feet and walked over to the armchair, putting his mouth next to Ron's ear. “Who said anything about a 'her'? Maybe, Ron, the person I'm in love with is just as much of a man as you or I.”  
  
  
He leant closer and whispered into the boy's ear. “Maybe, he's just as pretty as you are.”  
  
  
Ron's gasp was wholly satisfying and Sirius smirked to himself, wondering what would happen next as Ron sat frozen in the armchair. He could smell whisky on the air mixed with Ron's scent, a tantalising mixture. The boy had been driving him mad ever since his arrival at the start of his summer holidays. He was normally accompanied by the bushy-haired know-it-all who seemed to have her claws in him. The late hour meant that she was in bed, as were the rest of the house, and they were finally alone.  
  
  
It had been stupid, Sirius realised, to expect that he would be able to control himself without supervision around the beautiful, blushing redhead sitting beneath him.  
  
  
“Oh, have I embarrassed you?” he drawled, not pulling away. “Has nobody ever told you how very pretty you are, Ron?”  
“No.”  
“Well should we change that, then?” Sirius cupped Ron's jaw with his hand and gently guided his face upwards.  
  
  
His eyes were stunning, of the clearest blue Sirius had ever seen. His freckled skin was pale and blemish-free. His eyelashes were long, his mouth almost like that of a god's, perfectly curved and coloured. He longed to kiss that mouth, to tease it into opening for him and stroke the boy's virgin tongue. He pressed forward and took Ron by the lips, tilting his head to the side for a good angle. He tasted of whisky. Sirius couldn't suppress a moan of longing.  
  
  
Ron was frozen beneath his touch and kiss. Sirius fancied he could almost hear the hammering of the boy's heart. He had to hide his surprise when Ron's lips parted all of their own accord and admitted him. Sirius took advantage and shoved his tongue it, stroking it against Ron's own, as he had wanted to do for weeks.  
  
  
He pulled back and looked at him, at his wide eyes and reddened face.  
  
  
“Harry will be here tomorrow,” Ron whispered hoarsely.  
“So?” Sirius frowned.  
“So you won't be so interested in me then, will you?” Ron spoke with a sneer. “Harry's the one you're waiting for, all anyone's waiting for. I'm just a distraction.”  
  
  
Stung, Sirius returned to standing and looked down at the redhead.  
  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
  
Ron shrugged. “Just the way everyone always is. I'm fine, until Harry comes along. Then they forget me.”  
  
  
The boy unfolded from the armchair and knocked back the last of his drink. He pushed his empty glass into Sirius' hand and made to pass him; Sirius dropped both glasses to the old rug beneath his feet and grabbed Ron around the waist, yanking him close to his body.  
  
  
“I won't forget you,” he muttered to him. He claimed Ron's mouth again with increased fervour, running his hand up to sink into the fiery tresses at the nape of his neck. He held him there as he plundered his mouth. Ron moulded into his front and, much to Sirius' delight, put his arms tentatively around the older man's waist. “That's it...” Sirius breathed. “Hold me...”  
  
  
He herded Ron against the back of the armchair and pressed his body into it, feeling his arousal. Ron dropped his head back and exposed his throat; Sirius attacked it and began to nip just below his jawline. The sound of laboured breathing sent blood rushing to Sirius' cock.  
  
  
“Why don't you come upstairs with me, hmm?” Sirius nipped at Ron's earlobe in suggestion.


End file.
